SATURDAY
JUL 22, 2017

Daddy Issues

Nihilist Cheerleader

Lois Righteous | Femignome | Shouldies

Daddy Issues

"For as long as I can remember, ever since I was a very little girl, I’ve had this feeling inside of me that I was bad. The things I wanted, the things I did, the way I looked and the things people did to me, it was all evidence of the fact that I was bad. “Am I a lemon?” Daddy Issues’ guitarist and vocalist Jenna Moynihan muses on “Lemon,” the third track from the Nashville band’s debut full-length album Deep Dream. “I’ve been sucking my thumb and I think I’m sour.” The way she sings the line, the tight desperation at the start of the question, how the first syllable of “sour” pulls smooth and long while the second goes blunt and low, it sounds so familiar to me, like my voice. Not my actual singing or speaking voice, but my voice. Over the course of the album, Moynihan calls herself lots of things: sour, stupid, unimportant, a bummer. She says she’s just a “motel” for some guy, says she doesn’t play guitar that well. On “I’m Not,” penned by drummer Emily Maxwell about her history of childhood sexual assault, Moynihan wails Maxwell’s lyrics about how she’s not great, how she’s no use and she feels dumb. And while you might think hearing raw self-effacement to that degree would be wearying, in fact it feels fucking amazing. Because what Daddy Issues does, in naming and saying all those feelings, is remove the shame. And losing the shame that comes with being a woman is one of the most significant ways to claim your power, which is exactly what each and every song on the fearless, clear-eyed, unapologetic Deep Dream does in one way or another. Exemplified by impossibly sharply observed single “In Your Head,” a kiss-off to an ex that describes in brutally accurate detail what he probably imagines her life is like now without him, Deep Dream is what it feels like to be the smartest person in the room and still not have the power to get the respect you deserve from the men you’re spending time with, because they’ve had a whole lifetime of being conditioned to get what they want and you’ve had a whole life of being expected to shrink and contort yourself to fit into their world. And Daddy Issues both lays out that reality in clear, unflinchingly honest detail and bashes it all to pieces with shrieking scuzzy guitar and howling, snarling dismissals of all the bullshit." -Paste

"For as long as I can remember, ever since I was a very little girl, I’ve had this feeling inside of me that I was bad. The things I wanted, the things I did, the way I looked and the things people did to me, it was all evidence of the fact that I was bad. “Am I a lemon?” Daddy Issues’ guitarist and vocalist Jenna Moynihan muses on “Lemon,” the third track from the Nashville band’s debut full-length album Deep Dream. “I’ve been sucking my thumb and I think I’m sour.” The way she sings the line, the tight desperation at the start of the question, how the first syllable of “sour” pulls smooth and long while the second goes blunt and low, it sounds so familiar to me, like my voice. Not my actual singing or speaking voice, but my voice. Over the course of the album, Moynihan calls herself lots of things: sour, stupid, unimportant, a bummer. She says she’s just a “motel” for some guy, says she doesn’t play guitar that well. On “I’m Not,” penned by drummer Emily Maxwell about her history of childhood sexual assault, Moynihan wails Maxwell’s lyrics about how she’s not great, how she’s no use and she feels dumb. And while you might think hearing raw self-effacement to that degree would be wearying, in fact it feels fucking amazing. Because what Daddy Issues does, in naming and saying all those feelings, is remove the shame. And losing the shame that comes with being a woman is one of the most significant ways to claim your power, which is exactly what each and every song on the fearless, clear-eyed, unapologetic Deep Dream does in one way or another. Exemplified by impossibly sharply observed single “In Your Head,” a kiss-off to an ex that describes in brutally accurate detail what he probably imagines her life is like now without him, Deep Dream is what it feels like to be the smartest person in the room and still not have the power to get the respect you deserve from the men you’re spending time with, because they’ve had a whole lifetime of being conditioned to get what they want and you’ve had a whole life of being expected to shrink and contort yourself to fit into their world. And Daddy Issues both lays out that reality in clear, unflinchingly honest detail and bashes it all to pieces with shrieking scuzzy guitar and howling, snarling dismissals of all the bullshit." -Paste

Nihilist Cheerleader

Punk foursome Nihilist Cheerleader’s first show was at AthFest 2014—on the festival’s KidsFest stage. Usually reserved for high-school bands who specialize in Weezer and Led Zeppelin covers, it’s surprising that a band that’s come to be known for its strong social message and hardcore antics got its start next to a bounce house. But everyone has to start somewhere, and Nihilist Cheerleader took the stage—under its original name, Bent—and performed “Bleach Boy,” a song that highlights the unjust actions of white, male authority figures. While she’s not sure the audience understood what was going on, bassist Leora Hinkle fondly remembers a group of small children asking for her autograph after the show. “It was kind of embarrassing, but hey, the little kids loved us,” she says. Nihilist Cheerleader started when singer and guitarist Flynne Collins and her friend Lewis Gutierrez got together as teenagers to make “shitty music.” “It was really bad,” says Collins. “But I loved it anyway. It was great having our own little shitty thing to hold onto.” Not long after that, they asked Hinkle to join the group. Guitarist Dylan Loftin rounded out the lineup. “I was very opposed at first,” says Hinkle. “There was nothing recorded yet—it was the very early stages [of] the band. I was nervous to join because I hadn’t played bass in about a year, because I was recovering from cancer. I hadn’t done any music stuff at all, really. Then I gave it a shot, and it worked out. We recorded our first EP in Lewis’ bedroom.” That EP, Parkour, was fun, if rough around the edges. While it was received well by early fans of the band, Hinkle and Collins don’t look upon it too fondly. “It’s very poorly recorded,” says Collins. “It’s intentionally a lo-fi record, but we weren’t very confident at the time. We were very much amateur musicians at that stage.” The band's follow-up, 2016's Truth or Dare EP, brought Nihilist Cheerleader a lot of the hype it has enjoyed over the past year, but the group didn’t exactly expect that response. “We recorded that EP in about four hours,” says Collins. “It was the first time we were paying to record, and we were all really broke, so we wanted to record it as fast as possible. We went into the studio to make something that was really personal. We never made it expecting anyone else to like it but us.” While the EP was released quietly in January 2016, over the course of the year it started attracting listeners. “The more people listened to it, we started to get some significant attention,” says Hinkle. “I think when we won the Flagpole [Athens] Music Award [for Upstart of the Year] is when people really started paying attention to us. People liking that EP was kind of a happy coincidence.” After Truth or Dare, the band went through some changes. Gutierrez left, making way for Charlie Gumby to join on drums. “We’ve grown a lot as musicians together since then,” says Hinkle. “We’ve kept that lo-fi sound, but we’ve developed our songwriting and instrumentals to a whole different level.” Now Nihilist Cheerleader is prepping its debut full-length album, Riot, Right?, set for release in the coming months. According to Collins, the process of making the record has been both more strenuous and rewarding than the fast-and-loose approach of previous projects. “We’re putting a lot more into the songwriting for this album, so it’s taking a lot longer than it used to,” she says. “The songs are a lot more complex. We’re putting more thought into not having every song sound the same. We’re a lot more perfectionist this time around, so we’re taking way longer to make sure songs are to our liking.” Hinkle elaborates on the album's sound. “There’s a lot more emotion on this album. Not just in the instrumentals, which are more intricate and thought out, but also in the vocals. Flynne is touching on a place where she hasn’t been before, sonically.” Hinkle and Collins describe the album's sound as a mix of pop-minded dance-punk with the occasional foray into the heavier sound of Nihilist Cheerleader’s previous material. The album is politically minded, with songs that tackle tough subjects like the death penalty, and an updated version of “Bleach Boy” that more accurately reflects the dangerous type of power we’ve seen take hold in the Trump era. One of the more difficult parts of the recording process, according to Hinkle, was capturing the band’s essence. “There are a lot of musicians who are incredible live, and it’s hard to capture their energy in recordings,” she says. “That’s exactly what we’re trying to [do]… I don’t think it will ever be the same—you have to see us live to fully understand us as a band—but we’re gonna try.” The group is known for its intense performances, and Collins and Hinkle promise things will only get crazier once they begin touring around Riot, Right? this summer. “We used to be really stiff on stage. Now we get a little wild,” says Collins. “I like performance art, and I like to conceptualize different stunts to do on stage. Lots of stuff, like drawing on each other with lipstick and spanking our guitar player. I plan to up the ante as much as possible as things move forward.” Collins and Hinkle say they cherish the time they’ve had together as a band, and are excited for where Nihilist Cheerleader will go once Riot, Right? is in people’s hands. “I wouldn’t be involved in music at all right now if it weren’t for this band,” says Hinkle. “Flynne pushing [me] to pick music back up at a point in my life that was very uncertain—it made a huge difference.” For Collins, the band has given her a necessary boost in determination and heart. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more confident in myself or what I’ve been doing,” she says. “I’ve been honored to get so much support from people on this. Nihilist Cheerleader is definitely the most fulfilling thing I’ve ever done.” -Flagpole Magazine

Punk foursome Nihilist Cheerleader’s first show was at AthFest 2014—on the festival’s KidsFest stage. Usually reserved for high-school bands who specialize in Weezer and Led Zeppelin covers, it’s surprising that a band that’s come to be known for its strong social message and hardcore antics got its start next to a bounce house. But everyone has to start somewhere, and Nihilist Cheerleader took the stage—under its original name, Bent—and performed “Bleach Boy,” a song that highlights the unjust actions of white, male authority figures. While she’s not sure the audience understood what was going on, bassist Leora Hinkle fondly remembers a group of small children asking for her autograph after the show. “It was kind of embarrassing, but hey, the little kids loved us,” she says. Nihilist Cheerleader started when singer and guitarist Flynne Collins and her friend Lewis Gutierrez got together as teenagers to make “shitty music.” “It was really bad,” says Collins. “But I loved it anyway. It was great having our own little shitty thing to hold onto.” Not long after that, they asked Hinkle to join the group. Guitarist Dylan Loftin rounded out the lineup. “I was very opposed at first,” says Hinkle. “There was nothing recorded yet—it was the very early stages [of] the band. I was nervous to join because I hadn’t played bass in about a year, because I was recovering from cancer. I hadn’t done any music stuff at all, really. Then I gave it a shot, and it worked out. We recorded our first EP in Lewis’ bedroom.” That EP, Parkour, was fun, if rough around the edges. While it was received well by early fans of the band, Hinkle and Collins don’t look upon it too fondly. “It’s very poorly recorded,” says Collins. “It’s intentionally a lo-fi record, but we weren’t very confident at the time. We were very much amateur musicians at that stage.” The band's follow-up, 2016's Truth or Dare EP, brought Nihilist Cheerleader a lot of the hype it has enjoyed over the past year, but the group didn’t exactly expect that response. “We recorded that EP in about four hours,” says Collins. “It was the first time we were paying to record, and we were all really broke, so we wanted to record it as fast as possible. We went into the studio to make something that was really personal. We never made it expecting anyone else to like it but us.” While the EP was released quietly in January 2016, over the course of the year it started attracting listeners. “The more people listened to it, we started to get some significant attention,” says Hinkle. “I think when we won the Flagpole [Athens] Music Award [for Upstart of the Year] is when people really started paying attention to us. People liking that EP was kind of a happy coincidence.” After Truth or Dare, the band went through some changes. Gutierrez left, making way for Charlie Gumby to join on drums. “We’ve grown a lot as musicians together since then,” says Hinkle. “We’ve kept that lo-fi sound, but we’ve developed our songwriting and instrumentals to a whole different level.” Now Nihilist Cheerleader is prepping its debut full-length album, Riot, Right?, set for release in the coming months. According to Collins, the process of making the record has been both more strenuous and rewarding than the fast-and-loose approach of previous projects. “We’re putting a lot more into the songwriting for this album, so it’s taking a lot longer than it used to,” she says. “The songs are a lot more complex. We’re putting more thought into not having every song sound the same. We’re a lot more perfectionist this time around, so we’re taking way longer to make sure songs are to our liking.” Hinkle elaborates on the album's sound. “There’s a lot more emotion on this album. Not just in the instrumentals, which are more intricate and thought out, but also in the vocals. Flynne is touching on a place where she hasn’t been before, sonically.” Hinkle and Collins describe the album's sound as a mix of pop-minded dance-punk with the occasional foray into the heavier sound of Nihilist Cheerleader’s previous material. The album is politically minded, with songs that tackle tough subjects like the death penalty, and an updated version of “Bleach Boy” that more accurately reflects the dangerous type of power we’ve seen take hold in the Trump era. One of the more difficult parts of the recording process, according to Hinkle, was capturing the band’s essence. “There are a lot of musicians who are incredible live, and it’s hard to capture their energy in recordings,” she says. “That’s exactly what we’re trying to [do]… I don’t think it will ever be the same—you have to see us live to fully understand us as a band—but we’re gonna try.” The group is known for its intense performances, and Collins and Hinkle promise things will only get crazier once they begin touring around Riot, Right? this summer. “We used to be really stiff on stage. Now we get a little wild,” says Collins. “I like performance art, and I like to conceptualize different stunts to do on stage. Lots of stuff, like drawing on each other with lipstick and spanking our guitar player. I plan to up the ante as much as possible as things move forward.” Collins and Hinkle say they cherish the time they’ve had together as a band, and are excited for where Nihilist Cheerleader will go once Riot, Right? is in people’s hands. “I wouldn’t be involved in music at all right now if it weren’t for this band,” says Hinkle. “Flynne pushing [me] to pick music back up at a point in my life that was very uncertain—it made a huge difference.” For Collins, the band has given her a necessary boost in determination and heart. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more confident in myself or what I’ve been doing,” she says. “I’ve been honored to get so much support from people on this. Nihilist Cheerleader is definitely the most fulfilling thing I’ve ever done.” -Flagpole Magazine

Lois Righteous

"Lois Righteous grinds out fast-paced low-fi punk tracks thick with fuzzy guitar and a riot grrl ethos. This Atlanta trio rocks party anthems and love songs along with feminist calls-to-action. Raise your Highlife to the dismantling of the patriarchy."

"Lois Righteous grinds out fast-paced low-fi punk tracks thick with fuzzy guitar and a riot grrl ethos. This Atlanta trio rocks party anthems and love songs along with feminist calls-to-action. Raise your Highlife to the dismantling of the patriarchy."

Femignome

"There is a laid-back ease to Femignome’s lo-fi punk that could easily be misconstrued as nod-and-wink slacker rock. The music is loose and — on the surface, at least — blissful in a manner that goes down easy. Tracks like the infectious opener “Teenage Monster” and “I Hate High School” are coated in caustic humor, taking swipes at societal norms while navigating the emotional land mines of youthful unease and despair with songwriting that is both clever and catchy. But, to put it simply, guitarist/vocalist Anna Jacobson is far too earnest to associate with a genre built on enshrouding irony and detachment in music that is breezy and relaxed. At times it feels like she can’t quite contain her enthusiasm and all that excess energy spills over into her vocals resulting in an assortment of yelps, squeals, and screams that puncture her hooks and lend the album an air of unpredictability. And it’s that tension — the one between Jacobson’s zealous entreaties and Femignome’s casual, swinging grooves — that makes Anxt so compelling. At their core, these are simple songs rooted in ’60s pop and early ’90s alt-punk that feel warmly familiar, and it only takes a few listens before the urge to sing along sets in. Currently, Femignome’s trajectory is pointing towards a steep incline and Anxt‘s infectious melodies and effortless cool will only accelerate the group’s ascent. There are only a handful of moments over the course of a year where you can hear and feel a band begin to separate themselves from the rest of the scene, and this is undoubtedly one of them. Anxt is snappy, smart, and exceedingly entertaining." -Immersive Atlanta

"There is a laid-back ease to Femignome’s lo-fi punk that could easily be misconstrued as nod-and-wink slacker rock. The music is loose and — on the surface, at least — blissful in a manner that goes down easy. Tracks like the infectious opener “Teenage Monster” and “I Hate High School” are coated in caustic humor, taking swipes at societal norms while navigating the emotional land mines of youthful unease and despair with songwriting that is both clever and catchy. But, to put it simply, guitarist/vocalist Anna Jacobson is far too earnest to associate with a genre built on enshrouding irony and detachment in music that is breezy and relaxed. At times it feels like she can’t quite contain her enthusiasm and all that excess energy spills over into her vocals resulting in an assortment of yelps, squeals, and screams that puncture her hooks and lend the album an air of unpredictability. And it’s that tension — the one between Jacobson’s zealous entreaties and Femignome’s casual, swinging grooves — that makes Anxt so compelling. At their core, these are simple songs rooted in ’60s pop and early ’90s alt-punk that feel warmly familiar, and it only takes a few listens before the urge to sing along sets in. Currently, Femignome’s trajectory is pointing towards a steep incline and Anxt‘s infectious melodies and effortless cool will only accelerate the group’s ascent. There are only a handful of moments over the course of a year where you can hear and feel a band begin to separate themselves from the rest of the scene, and this is undoubtedly one of them. Anxt is snappy, smart, and exceedingly entertaining." -Immersive Atlanta

Shouldies

"A play on the word “shoulders”, Shouldies as a name reminiscences kid-powered rewording, the “strawbabies” and “roast beasts” of childhood. As an electronic outfit, Shouldies relies less on the whimsical and more on the surreal. “Statue”, their first recorded material engineered by Esar Tehrani, emits a palpitating smokiness. Yancey Ballard’s talk-singing is a strong instrument on its own, building intensity with John Pierce’s use of MicroKORG and Daniel Eberlein’s programmed drums and bass synth. With a sound surprisingly full for a three piece, Yancey’s sprechgesang, like a haunting early Modern Lovers’ Jonathan Richman, provides a post-punk edge to John and Daniel’s synthwave foundation. “When I wrote this song I wanted the act of everything to be stripped away. I was tired of the whole performance of touch,” he explains. “I wanted someone to touch my skin with no intention. With something pure and perfect. I think of the repetitive verses in a mocking sense.” Craving a different creative current, when Yancey and John dissolved their long time project, Man Up Yancey, they were exhausted of relying on traditional band structures. John had cultivated a solo project, Post Hunk, that combined drum machine with traditional guitar and bass. While Yancey is always creating, currently making a zine about trans body positivity, the two knew they need another counterpart. When Daniel moved from Macon with a previous background in noise and an interest in electronic music, they found their magic number, three. Without requiring a traditional drummer, or even dependence on a typical practice space, Shouldies, as a newer Atlanta act, also crosses over into queer art and identity. Having played many captivating performances, quickly gaining a devoted following, audiences look forward to more recordings and shows from this innovative group." -Wussy

"A play on the word “shoulders”, Shouldies as a name reminiscences kid-powered rewording, the “strawbabies” and “roast beasts” of childhood. As an electronic outfit, Shouldies relies less on the whimsical and more on the surreal. “Statue”, their first recorded material engineered by Esar Tehrani, emits a palpitating smokiness. Yancey Ballard’s talk-singing is a strong instrument on its own, building intensity with John Pierce’s use of MicroKORG and Daniel Eberlein’s programmed drums and bass synth. With a sound surprisingly full for a three piece, Yancey’s sprechgesang, like a haunting early Modern Lovers’ Jonathan Richman, provides a post-punk edge to John and Daniel’s synthwave foundation. “When I wrote this song I wanted the act of everything to be stripped away. I was tired of the whole performance of touch,” he explains. “I wanted someone to touch my skin with no intention. With something pure and perfect. I think of the repetitive verses in a mocking sense.” Craving a different creative current, when Yancey and John dissolved their long time project, Man Up Yancey, they were exhausted of relying on traditional band structures. John had cultivated a solo project, Post Hunk, that combined drum machine with traditional guitar and bass. While Yancey is always creating, currently making a zine about trans body positivity, the two knew they need another counterpart. When Daniel moved from Macon with a previous background in noise and an interest in electronic music, they found their magic number, three. Without requiring a traditional drummer, or even dependence on a typical practice space, Shouldies, as a newer Atlanta act, also crosses over into queer art and identity. Having played many captivating performances, quickly gaining a devoted following, audiences look forward to more recordings and shows from this innovative group." -Wussy